Start a Fire: A Dark High School Bully Romance (The Savage Crew Book 1)

by Julia Wolf

  Bex grabbed my attention again, telling me about the latest scrape with the law her brother was involved in, and Sebastian let us be. After that, I never once forgot he was right there, listening. Even while I ignored him with all my might, I wasn’t able to push away my awareness of him.

  He’d done exactly what he’d intended.

  Chapter Nineteen

  At the end of the day on Tuesday, I found Sebastian leaning on my locker. Helen was with him, but unlike the first time I ran across them here, they weren’t touching.

  She grinned at me, shuffling aside so I could open my locker. “Hey, Gracie.”

  “Hey.” I glanced between them. “Are you coming with us?”

  “Nope,” she said, popping the “p.” “I’m working at Wheelz today. I was trying to convince Bash to give me a ride, but you’ve already claimed him.”

  “You’re welcome to have him if you really need him.”

  Even as I said it, I knew I didn’t mean it. I’d been looking forward to checking out the shop and setting up a place to get started on my sculptures. And maybe, just maybe, I wanted to crack open Sebastian’s life and take a peek.

  She punched Sebastian’s shoulder. “He’s all yours, girl. Good luck with that.” She sauntered down the hall, waving over her shoulder.

  “Ready?” Sebastian gripped my nape, rubbing his thumb along the slope of my neck. “Do you have your sketchbook?”

  “I always have it.”

  His gaze penetrated me to my marrow. “I like that about you, Grace.”

  I truly hadn’t realized how massive our school was until Sebastian took me to shop class. It was in a wing of the building I’d never been to, along with classrooms where kids learned trades like plumbing and cosmetology.

  The shop itself was one big room with concrete floors, large wooden tables scattered around the middle, and every manner of tool I could imagine. Sebastian led me past all of it to a slightly separate area. Tall sheets of metal rolls were propped against the wall and tools like the ones I worked with in Switzerland were laid out on a stainless-steel table.

  “Here’s where you’ll work.” He picked up a blowtorch, examining it. “Are you going to burn shit down, Grace?”

  I took the torch from him and set it back on the table. “I’ll try not to. My goal is usually to not start a fire.”

  Mr. Frederick, the shop teacher, came over and made sure I knew what I was doing. He questioned me to the point I had to stop myself from rolling my eyes. I doubted he would have done the same if I’d had a dick between my legs, but I tried to stuff my impatience down. He was doing me a favor by allowing me to work here. Even promised me access to all the scrap metal my little heart desired and volunteered Sebastian for any help lifting heavy pieces.

  Sebastian took a seat on a stool, leaning his elbows behind him on the scuffed-up table. He watched me check out all the tools available to me while my stomach knotted with excitement. It had been too long since I’d done anything more than draw. My artist hands were dying to get messy.

  He cleared his throat. “I’m ready to look through your sketchbook, Grace.”

  I barked a laugh. “What? I didn’t agree to that.”

  His head tilted to the side. “I was thinking I’d show you something of mine, then maybe you’d show me something of yours.” He jerked his head in the direction of the far wall. “That’s mine.”

  I hadn’t noticed anything when we’d come in. I’d been laser-focused on my work area and blind to everything else.

  My gaze jerked back to him. “What do you mean?”

  He sat forward, steepling his hands beneath his chin, watching me intently. “I mean I painted it. It’s mine.”

  I didn’t have words. I stumbled in the direction of the wall, but Sebastian stopped me, gripping the straps of my backpack.

  “It has to be a fair trade. Let me look through your sketchbook.” He slipped my bag off my back, and I didn’t protest. There were a lot of really private drawings in there, but I had this feeling Sebastian would take care of them if I allowed it. He might glimpse parts of me I didn’t want him to see, but the exchange would be worth it.

  I left him there, flipping through my sketchbook, and walked to the other side of the room. One massive wall was covered in a spray-painted mural like the side of Wheelz. Sebastian had taken another classic, “The Kiss” by Klimt, and made it his own. Instead of a man and woman locked in a romantic embrace, Sebastian’s was a skeleton and vampire. The vampire’s teeth were sinking into the skeleton’s bones, bright red blood dripping from the wound. The skeleton’s expression was one of ecstasy. The vampire held him close, wrapped in her arms. At their feet were piles of bloody bones and skulls.

  Words made up the pattern on the shroud covering them both. “Kiss my soul.” “Lips of the devil.” “Into the dark.” “Yours to ruin.” “Burrow deep.” “Mine to keep.” “Broken forever.”

  There were single words too, instead of phrases. I stood there for a long time, trying to decipher them all. Eventually, Sebastian joined me, standing at my shoulder.

  “It’s beautiful.” That wasn’t strong enough, really, but I was overcome with awe at his talent and fear of the darkness it took to make a painting like this.

  He gripped the back of my neck. “You think so?”

  “If dark and violent can be beautiful, then yes.” I shook my head, still in disbelief the boy beside me had created this. But then, he was just as dark and beautiful as his art, so maybe it wasn’t so hard to believe after all. “What were you thinking when you made this?”

  “It was just an idea that showed up in my head. Mr. Frederick lets me use this wall to paint. He doesn’t care what’s up there as long as it’s not tits or Nazi shit, you know?” His thumb stroked my neck, but he didn’t look at me. And for the first time, I saw something vulnerable in Sebastian. Him showing this to me felt bigger than I even understood. “I did this over the summer. I needed out of my house, and Mr. F was here teaching summer school. He gave me free rein.”

  My breath caught in horror. “Did you...did you cover up another of your paintings?”

  He breathed out a chuckle. “Of course. Twenty feet of blank space is hard to come by.”

  “I can’t—” I hardly knew what to say. “What was there before?”

  “It doesn’t matter.” He rounded on me, blocking my view. “What’s done is done. What was there represented the way my mind worked in the past. This is the present. I might paint over it next week, or it might stay there until some other punk decides to take on that wall.”

  I licked my lips, which had gone dry from gaping open. “But it’s your art.”

  “Fuck it.” He shoved his fingers through his hair. “Art is art, even if it’s fleeting. Just like life is life, even if it’s short.”

  I waved my hand over his shoulder. “Is that what you think of women? They suck the life out of men and discard them?”

  “Not really. I don’t hate women. I’ve met some good ones and bad.”

  I wanted to study the wall more, because it felt like the key to Sebastian’s thoughts and mindset, but he stayed in front of me, shutting down the entrance.

  “I’ll drive you home.” He picked up my backpack from the table right behind me and slipped it on my back. “Let’s go.”

  One last glance on my way out was all I got, but I’d be back. I’d have more opportunities to study the mural and try to decipher its meaning.

  Bash drove like he was on fire, and with my backpack on, my position on the back of his bike felt precarious. Add in his high speed, and I practically threw myself off by the time we were in front of my apartment.

  With a wave, I started for the doors to my building, but Sebastian called my name. I whirled around to face him, almost bumping into his chest. When had he gotten off his bike?

  He caught my elbows, reeling me in. “Hey.”

  “Hey. Thank you for the ride, and...for everything.”

  Twin black flames gazed at
me. “Don’t I get something?”

  “What?”

  “I’ve been good. Better than I thought possible. I just showed you something about myself. So...don’t I get something?” His grip on my elbows released, and his hands moved to my back, flattening over my spine.

  I huffed, disappointed. “Wow, really? You think I owe you a freaking blow job for getting to see your painting? Do you stand outside of Wheelz with your dick out, demanding payment from everyone who passes by?”

  He almost laughed. “That’s a fucking great idea. Don’t know why I never thought of it.” He jerked me closer. “But no, I was thinking about kissing you. Normally, I wouldn’t ask, but you see, you’ve got all these rules for me to follow and—”

  I cut him off with a hard press of my lips on his. Maybe it was stupid, maybe I was, but I wanted to kiss him. And for even longer, I’d wanted him to kiss me.

  He didn’t allow me to rule our kiss for long. His fingers tangled in my hair, fisting to angle my head exactly how he wanted me. His tongue swept between my lips, and he kissed me so deep, it felt like we’d plunged to the bottom of the ocean. Floating and breathless, I gave into him. In broad daylight, in front of my home, Sebastian Vega kissed me until tears pricked my eyes. His teeth scraped my swollen lips. His tongue slid over mine, tasting me, licking me, battling and conquering me.

  My hands slipped under the back of his T-shirt, pressing into his hot, bare skin and pulling him as close as I could. Our bodies were flush, not even a ray of light could penetrate between us.

  “Let me come in,” he said against my lips. His erection dug into my stomach, and I couldn’t stop the answering rock of my hips, making him groan. “Grace.”

  “No.” I shook my head. “No. I’m not...no.”

  He tugged on my hair, tipping my head back so far he took my breath away. “I don’t like this. I don’t like waiting for some arbitrary time frame. My dick is hard, and I know if I stuck my hand down your pants, you’d be soaked. Let me come inside, Grace.”

  “I don’t want to be a random hole you stick your dick in, Sebastian. I’ve been that, and I didn’t like it. Two weeks isn’t a long time by any means, and you know that. Especially given how we started.” Tears welled in my eyes from the sting in my scalp, and his grip on my hair loosened. “I want to go home now.”

  He lowered his forehead to mine, panting. “I get carried away with you.”

  “Is that your way of apologizing for not being able to deal with an erection?”

  “Fuck,” he gritted out, then pressed his lips to mine again. I kept mine sealed, and he didn’t try to work his way inside. “The mouth on you. Anyone else, I wouldn’t still be here. But you...you keep me coming back. I like when you call me out. I like you, Grace.”

  He kissed me another time, hard and lingering, cupping my cheeks with a firm touch, then he backed up and adjusted himself, eyeing me with some wariness.

  “Go in. I can’t look at you like this.” He jerked his chin in the direction of my building.

  “Like what?” I touched my kiss-swollen lips.

  He shook his head and mounted his bike. “Look in the mirror. You’ll get it.”

  Sebastian waited until I went in before he sped out of the parking lot. Mom wouldn’t be home for a few hours, so my apartment was blissfully quiet. When I flipped on the light in our small bathroom, I thought it was just as well she wasn’t here. My lips were red and puffy. Mascara smeared under my eyes. My hair was tousled in a way that spoke of wrinkled, messy sheets.

  I definitely didn’t have sex, but man, I looked it.

  Once I washed my face and shook off the effects of Sebastian Vega, I sat down on the couch to do my homework. It wasn’t until I pulled my sketchbook out that I realized Sebastian hadn’t said a word about it.

  My stomach sank.

  Had he even been genuinely interested, or had he been ticking another box to get one step closer to sex with me? After revealing myself through my sketchbook and seeing a new side of Sebastian, I hated that I was questioning his motives.

  But a few nice gestures didn’t magically repair what had happened between us in that van. Trusting Sebastian fully was going to take time, and I still wasn’t there.

  I sighed, deciding to shove him from my thoughts. I’d already spent far too much time thinking about him. For now, it was time to think of myself.

  Chapter Twenty

  My buzzing phone woke me around midnight. When I saw Sebastian’s name on the screen, I was hit with a strong sense of déjà vu. If he was outside for some stargazing, he could go fuck himself.

  Bash: Grace.

  Bash: Are you asleep?

  Bash: Or ignoring me?

  Bash: I want to talk to you. Wake up, wake up, wake up!

  Me: You know, this isn’t endearing. I happen to like uninterrupted sleep.

  Bash: There she is. What’s up?

  Me: Sleep is what’s up. All the cool kids are doing it.

  Bash: Don’t worry, I’m not outside your place.

  Me: The thought hadn’t even crossed my mind.

  Bash: Liar.

  Me: Did you wake me up for something specific? Or just in the mood to torture me?

  Bash: It’s been a few hours since you gave me attitude. I needed a fix.

  Me: Waking me up out of a dead sleep will certainly get you that. Anything else?

  Bash: You’re pretty dark, Grace. The things you draw...it threw me off guard.

  My phone started ringing before I could tap out a response. I hit “answer” and cradled the phone on my ear.

  “Hello.”

  “Hey,” he breathed. “I won’t keep you long.”

  “Okay.”

  He chuckled softly. “So, I don’t think I need to say you’re an incredible artist. You know that, right?”

  “It’s always nice to hear, since art is subjective.”

  “I think, objectively, anyone would say you’re talented. But Jesus, that first picture.”

  I knew the one he meant. I’d started this book the day after my dad died. On the first page, I’d sketched a woman sinking underwater, poisoned weights tied to her ankles, her face serene as she accepted her fate.

  “I know you probably think I want to die, but I don’t. That wasn’t a representation of me.”

  “Okay.” He exhaled slowly, like he’d actually been worried. “Okay, that’s good to know.”

  “What did you think of the van?”

  After the...incident, I’d drawn a funeral scene taking place in the back of the minivan.

  “It was beautiful, but I didn’t fucking love it.”

  “No, I don’t suppose you did.”

  We both went quiet, and his slow, steady breathing filled my ear. I was on my side, heavy with fatigue, but I kept my eyes open, waiting to hear if he had anything else to say.

  “Thank you for letting me look. I really hope you’ll allow me to peek inside again, but that’s one boundary I won’t cross.”

  “Because you understand it?” I asked.

  “Yeah, I guess so. Anyway, you should sleep. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “That’s it?”

  “You want more? ’Cause I could talk to you all night. I like the sound of your voice, especially when I can tell you’re in bed.”

  That made me smile despite myself. “I kind of do want more, but since we have to be at school in about six and a half hours, I’m going to say good night.”

  “Look at you, getting worn down. Soon, you might actually like me too.”

  My laugh was soft and light. “Good night, Sebastian.”

  “Night, Grace.”

  * * *

  The week wore on. Each day, Sebastian lingered while Bex and I had lunch on the wall. He made it known he was listening, but didn’t interfere. He spent a lot of time kissing me stupid, but not quite stupid enough to invite him inside. Not yet.

  By Friday, I’d dropped my guard somewhat. The trouble was, Sebastian wasn’t the only danger to me.
My English teacher had paired us randomly with partners, and since I was on the universe’s shit list, I got matched with Nate Bergen.

  Elena glared at me in warning, as if there was a chance I’d elope with her man before class was out. The memory of my head being bashed into my locker was fresh enough that I believed the daggers in her eyes. I had exactly zero desire to draw her attention my way anymore than it already was.

  “S’up, Patel?” He grinned wide, flashing his dimples as he dragged his desk beside mine.

  “Do you know which play you want to choose?”

  He sat back in his chair, stretching his long legs in front of him. “All business, huh?”

  “We have one class period to figure this out. So, yeah, I’m all business.” Our assignment was to choose a Shakespeare play and analyze exactly what about it made it a comedy or a tragedy, and then find a modern piece of cinema that could be considered its counterpart. It wouldn’t be difficult, but since we both needed to write in order to complete our assignment by the end of the period, we had to start now.

  “We’ll do ‘The Taming of the Shrew.’” He leaned his head on his fist. “Pretty simple considering there’s a modern retelling.”

  “Don’t you think every other group is doing that one?” As much as I liked “10 Things I Hate About You,” I kind of wanted to be a little more original. “What about ‘A Midsummer Night’s Dream’?”

  He sighed. “Sure, whatever. Tell me what to write and I’ll do it.”

  For a few minutes, we actually talked about the topic of our assignment, and I relaxed. Nate wasn’t stupid. He got good grades and would for sure be going to one of the top colleges next fall. A long time ago, that was one of the things I’d really liked about him—a jock who was smart and cared about school. But that was before.

  We both tapped out our paragraphs on our Chromebooks, then traded to check over each other’s work. I read through Nate’s and came to a screeching halt at the final sentence.